Sartor
“She woke slowly, the jumble of dream-images mixing with sounds from below and above. The sweet, or shrill, or sharp sounds of forest birds and birds of the meadows, of the lakes, and of the mountains, complemented the chatter of young voices.
Birds.
She wondered if some of these birds had found their way out of the disintegrating time-binding.
Her first instinct was to ask Tsauderei, from lifetime habit. She could picture his old, sardonic face, and his rusty voice when he’d said once, You must... realize, Atan, that the magic-training for a prospective ruler is at best a slapdash affair. Far better that the heir has a sibling or cousin or friend who is trusted, who can spend the required ten or twenty years living in the wilds, doing nothing but listening to the land—and another who can spend ten or twenty years working a craft, and listening and learning how people interact. Only when mages know the balance of nature can they master the great magic.
I am ignorant, Atan thought, still not opening her eyes.MoreLess
Birds.
She wondered if some of these birds had found their way out of the disintegrating time-binding.
Her first instinct was to ask Tsauderei, from lifetime habit. She could picture his old, sardonic face, and his rusty voice when he’d said once, You must... realize, Atan, that the magic-training for a prospective ruler is at best a slapdash affair. Far better that the heir has a sibling or cousin or friend who is trusted, who can spend the required ten or twenty years living in the wilds, doing nothing but listening to the land—and another who can spend ten or twenty years working a craft, and listening and learning how people interact. Only when mages know the balance of nature can they master the great magic.
I am ignorant, Atan thought, still not opening her eyes.MoreLess
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